


Damn The Consequences

by scarletladyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2011-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletladyy/pseuds/scarletladyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is refusing to leave Azkaban with the claim that he'll die within a week once he's off the island. Harry, as Head Healer of the Janus Thickey Ward, has been sent to bring him back for some tests, because everyone thinks he's insane, but it's not long before Harry realises that Draco might be telling the truth after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn The Consequences

Harry paced the room, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, until the Head Guard of Azkaban cleared his throat. Harry looked up and frowned, but he didn't stop moving. "I just don't understand," he said after a moment. "Why me?"

"You know him, Mr Potter, and your boss recommended you. Says you're the best," the Head Guard said firmly. "Besides, we've tried nearly everyone else."

Harry clucked. "So I'm your last resort, then?"

"No," replied the guard firmly. "We just thought you'd have more luck than anyone else who's tried. He's standing his ground, and he hasn't made any attempt to leave since his release last week. Frankly, we need the cell room."

"Of course." Harry nodded his head thoughtfully, trying to wrack his brains for any reason that Malfoy would refuse to leave Azkaban. Everyone Harry had ever met that had been there couldn't wait to leave, and he remembered how furious Malfoy had been at his five-year sentence. "Has he given any reason for not leaving?"

The guard sighed. "He says he'll die within a week once he's off the island."

"Er, right. Why does he think that?"

"No idea. Bloody lunatic, he is."

"Please don't use that kind of language around me. I work with several patients you would class as 'bloody lunatics'." Harry crossed his arms tightly against his chest and finally stopped pacing. "Fine. I'll bring him here. When do you want me to pick him up?"

The guard looked around awkwardly. "Now would be best, Mr Potter."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Right this second?" When the guard nodded, Harry sighed audibly. "Very well, then. But this had better not take long, I'm going out tonight." The silence Harry was greeted with unnerved him, but he followed the guard outside of the hospital and clung to his arm, ready to Apparate to the island. He'd still never got used to the effects of Apparition, and felt a little queasy when they arrived.

"It's not the most comfortable of places, Mr Potter, but it's a lot more humane now," said the guard, seemingly embarrassed at the conditions in which the prisoners lived. Harry was sure Hermione had fought, and won, better rights for prisoners just a year ago, but it appeared none of her demands had been implemented. Harry didn't blame her for not coming to check, the place sent shudders down his back and he stepped awkwardly into the cold, stone building. "Mr Malfoy is in the third cell on the left."

Harry was surprised that Malfoy's cell was so close to the entrance, but was relieved that he didn't need to drag himself up flights of stairs just to bring out his old rival. The first cell he passed held a woman of a similar age to himself, and on a second glance, he realised it was Pansy Parkinson. She'd received a rather heavy sentence for attempting to hand him over to Voldemort, so it was no surprise to see her there. She stared at him blankly, no usual glare in place, and it was as though she just didn't have the energy to be herself anymore.

Worried that he might see someone else he knew, Harry didn't look into the second cell, only seeing a figure out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't possible to tell whether or not he knew them, and for that he was thankful. He was still bloody angry at what Parkinson had done, but he didn't think she deserved this. Alas, the Ministry were furious with her and had charged her with being an accessory to murder. It was a laughable sentence for such a young girl, who had probably only acted out of fear. Merlin, the amount of times Harry had done that.

"Potter," Malfoy drawled as Harry found himself stood outside the third cell. Had Malfoy not said anything, Harry probably would have gone several cells too far, because he was lost in his thoughts. "How did I know they'd send you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, who was sitting on the small, metal bed with his arms relaxed casually on his knees. He didn't look as bland or worn down as Parkinson did, and Harry was appreciative of that fact. He didn't think he could handle wrestling with a broken Malfoy. "You were released a week ago, Malfoy. Why haven't you left?"

Malfoy sighed loudly. "As I've already told everyone else, if I leave this island, I will die. I do not want to die, Potter, and therefore I will not leave."

"You do realise my boss wants me to bring you to the Janus Thickey Ward because of what you're saying, right?" Harry watched as a smirk formed on Malfoy's lips, and he threw his head back in laughter. "I'm being serious, Malfoy."

"I know," Malfoy replied. "That's why it's funny. You're a Healer, then?"

Harry nodded. "I am. I can help you, Malfoy, we just need to get out of here."

"I don't need help," Malfoy snapped, getting a little irritated. "I just can't leave, that's all. I don't see what the bloody problem is, it's not as if anyone wants me out there anyway."

"The guards need the cells," said Harry calmly, his eyes focused on the bit of stone Malfoy was rubbing between his fingers. For some reason he found it oddly distracting, and every so often Malfoy would throw it into the air and catch it again. Harry supposed this was the best entertainment he got in this place.

"The guards _say_ they need the cells," Malfoy corrected. "But would you look at this place? It's over twenty stories high, and there ain't that many prisoners, Potter. I reckon they just can't be arsed to feed me."

"Possibly," Harry conceded. "But it's certainly not healthy for you to stay here any longer than necessary, particularly not when you've started having paranoid thoughts."

Malfoy laughed bitterly. "Paranoid thoughts? Oh, Potter. You always were a cynical one."

"Look, Malfoy, I don't have time for this. Will you just come with me? We'll get you assessed and see what's going on. You won't be hurt, trust me." When Malfoy scoffed at this, Harry narrowed his eyes, drawing them away from the tiny stone. "You _can_ trust me, I'm a bloody Gryffindor."

Malfoy stood up and dropped the stone on the floor, walking over to the bars of the cell. "Look, Potter, while I appreciate that you've gone _completely_ out of your way for me, you've wasted your time. I'm not going anywhere."

"Why?" Harry growled, baring his teeth a little. This was not how he had planned to spend his evening. "Why do you think you'll die?"

Leaning casually against the bars, Malfoy said in a surprising soft voice, "There is someone they have yet to catch, and arguably, the most dangerous of them all. The second I step off this island, they'll know exactly where I'll be. I'm only safe here because he can't bloody get here."

"Who's 'he'?" asked Harry, frowning. Surely there wasn't somebody that desperate to kill Malfoy that he'd rather spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. After all, what could he have possibly done to piss someone off that much?

Malfoy turned on his heel and sat down on the bed once more, banging it gently against the wall as he did so. "What does it matter, Potter? Going to personally catch him yourself?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, shove off, Malfoy. You know what? You want to rot in here for the rest of your life, feel free." Feeling his blood boil, Harry stalked out of the prison and completely ignored the guard who tried to attract his attention on the way out. He really couldn't handle anybody else right now, which meant he'd have to rearrange his date for a later time. Clutching his fingers so tightly in the palm of his hands that his nails began to dig in, Harry Disapparated back home, wanting nothing more than to settle down with a bottle of Firewhisky and forget all about Draco bloody Malfoy.

*

Three days later and Harry found himself stood outside Azkaban once more, his teeth clenched firmly together. If he'd had his way he never would have come back to see the smarmy git again, no matter how good he was looking in spite the years of imprisonment. His boss, however, had been insistent on having Malfoy as a patient, for he found Malfoy's 'condition' intriguing. Of course, he wouldn't visit Malfoy himself, no, Harry had to be the one to do that.

And so here he was, nodding curtly to the guard and walking past the first couple of cells to Malfoy's. Parkinson was slumped in the corner, holding none of the demeanour she had done in school, and once again he refused to look into the second cell.

"Ahh, I see you're back," Malfoy remarked smugly, sitting up and looking him straight in the eyes. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"The same as before," said Harry, resting his arms on the bars of the cell. "If you're still refusing to leave," Malfoy nodded enthusiastically at this point, "then I want to know more about this man you claim will kill you if you do."

"It's not a claim, Potter," Malfoy spat, sounding irritated by Harry's choice of words, "but I don't feel like addressing the issue. I'd rather not be psychoanalysed by the likes of you. You're hardly a healthy individual yourself."

Harry raised his eyebrows comically. "And how do you figure that one out?"

"You're clearly not happy." Malfoy stood and crossed the cell, only stopping once he was a couple of inches from the bars, his face far too close for comfort for Harry's liking. "I mean, look at you. Your buttons aren't matched up correctly, your tie has a stain on it and your flies are down. If you aren't taking pride in your appearance, there's something deeply wrong with you."

"One could say you were talking about yourself, Malfoy," Harry seethed. "Looked in a mirror, lately?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Potter," said Malfoy, indicating his cell, "there isn't one here."

"No bother." Harry grinned like a maniac, trying to quell his annoyance. "There are plenty on the ward. Come with me now and you can see yourself in no time."

Malfoy laughed at Harry's proposal. "No thanks, Potter, I'm not that bothered. But then again, I don't have up to hundreds of people seeing my dissolved appearance every day. You do."

Harry crossed his arms tightly round his chest, his eyes fixed on Malfoy's grey ones. "Have you ever heard the expression, 'don't bite the hand that feeds you'?"

"Indeed I have not," replied Malfoy casually. "A Muggle saying, I presume?"

Harry nodded. "It is, but that doesn't make it any less valid. It basically means don't piss off someone who's trying to help you!"

Malfoy shrugged and crossed the room once more, settling down on his bed and pulling the blanket over him. "I don't want your help, Potter. When are you going to realise that?"

Knowing he wouldn't be able to stop himself saying something he regretted, Harry banged his fists against the bars of the cell and stormed off, only to be interrupted by a softly spoken voice.

"He won't leave, you know."

Stopping in his tracks, Harry looked to his right; Parkinson was speaking to him. "Sorry?"

"Draco. He isn't going anywhere." She shrugged casually and drew closer into herself. "Just thought you should know."

"How very useful," Harry muttered, continuing on his way out with a feeling he simply couldn't describe. He wanted to strangle Malfoy, and yet at the same time he wanted to kiss him, if anything just to get him to shut the fuck up and keep the sarcastic sentences from being said. Harry snapped himself out of this train of thought as he Disapparated away, absolutely determined that he wouldn't return no matter how much his boss berated him.

*

As Harry was flipping through his paperwork one morning, attempting to find the release letter for one of his patients, he came across an article in the _Daily Prophet_ that someone had cut out and left on his desk for him. Strange, he thought, but the picture of the werewolf drew him in. Upon closer inspection, he realised it was Fenrir Greyback, and shuddered at his ugly appearance.

The article was about how he still hadn't been captured, and was the only member of Voldemort's inner circle to still be around. This plagued Harry, and he couldn't help but wonder if this had anything to do with Malfoy. But, then again, it was a man who was after him, wasn't it? Or did Harry just assume that?

Deciding this was too crucial to pass up on, Harry Apparated back to Azkaban, eating his own words of not returning there. Still, if Malfoy was telling the truth, and Harry realised he owed it to him to at least investigate it a little, since nobody else was, as if he was forced to leave, he would be in serious danger. That wasn't a risk Harry was prepared to take.

Harry hurried past the first two cells, not wanting Parkinson to put him on a downer again, and reached Malfoy's almost immediately. Malfoy appeared to be asleep, but after a few light ticks on the bars, he sat up lazily.

"What do you want _now_ , Potter?"

Harry clenched his fingers into a fist; he wouldn't let Malfoy get the better of him. "Did you say it was a man who would kill you if you left?"

"No."

"You're not being very helpful here, Malfoy." Harry took hold of the bars and held on tightly, attempting to keep as calm as possible and not show Malfoy exactly what reaction he could bring out of him. "I want to help you, heck, I'm sure you don't want to stay here forever if there's a chance that whatever you say will kill you is got rid of."

Malfoy muttered something, and towards the end Harry realised he was mocking him. "Fine," Malfoy said at last, standing up and walking forwards. "What can I help you with?"

"If it wasn't a man, was it... was it Greyback?" Harry said it tentatively, really hoping it wouldn't be true.

Malfoy looked awkwardly down at the floor before saying, "Why did you come out with his name?"

"There was an article in the _Prophet_ saying he's the only Voldemort supporter still free." Harry shifted his feet. "Is it him?"

After several moments, Malfoy finally nodded and said softly, "Yes."

"Why didn't you just say that?" asked Harry, rolling his eyes. "I could have spent the last few days getting the Aurors to take this seriously."

Malfoy shrugged and mumbled, "Pride."

"Trust you." Harry laughed, and it seemed to be infectious, as Malfoy joined in a couple of seconds later. "Look, with your help and the information you give the Aurors, we can probably find Greyback in a matter of weeks. You were..." Harry didn't know how to say this without being offensive. "You were a Death Eater, so you'll probably know better than anyone where he could be. And with my verification that you're not lying, and that you really will die if --" Harry stopped for a moment. "Hang on. How will he know exactly where you'll be when you're off the island?"

Malfoy turned around, blushing. "He... he installed a magical chip in me. It was punishment for failing to kill Dumbledore. The Dark Lord found it very amusing."

"I'm sorry," said Harry sincerely, and he really was. Despite what Malfoy had done, or rather not done, he didn't deserve what his own side had done to him. "Like I was saying, with my verification that you really will die if you leave the island, they'll have to take your case seriously."

Malfoy nodded in appreciation, and then they were left in silence for a few moments. Not knowing what else to do or say, and feeling the urge to kiss Malfoy again, Harry turned on his heel, feeling the burning awkwardness of the situation rising up in the back of his neck.

"Thanks, Potter," Malfoy softly called after him. Harry put a hand up to show he'd heard, and then made his way outside into the breezy air to Disapparate. He knew it was imperative that they catch Greyback as soon as possible, because it wasn't fair for him to be roaming around free whilst Malfoy, who had served his time, was stuck in Azkaban.

*

Ever since Harry had convinced the Aurors that Greyback was a priority, and it had taken some convincing, he'd been writing to Malfoy with updates on the situation. Anything Malfoy could think of that would aid them in finding Greyback was sent by owl post straight to the Auror department, so it could be dealt with immediately. It was really only thanks to Ron that the Aurors took action, because he'd managed assure them, after much deliberation, that Harry was to be trusted.

Harry was going through his post one Monday morning three weeks later when he found an envelope, bright blue -- the colour the Ministry used -- at the bottom of the pile. It looked as though it had been delivered late on Friday; the day Harry had left early. He opened it quickly, hoping he hadn't missed anything important, and began to read out aloud:

 _Mr Potter,_

 _The information we received from Prisoner #3741, Mr Draco Malfoy, earlier this morning, is believed to lead us straight to Fenrir Greyback's hideout. We are sending a team of seven Aurors there immediately, and will update you as more news comes in._

 _With thanks,  
Mr R Weasley,  
Head Auror_

It took Harry a couple of minutes longer than it should have to read that letter, as Ron's handwriting still wasn't that much better than it had been at school. Anxious to know the results of their mission, Harry grabbed at his pile of post and searched through it for more blue letters -- there were three. He ripped open the one on the top, hoping to be able to disregard the other two with this one containing the latest news.

 _Mr Potter,_

 _As we have had no reply to the other two letters, we assume you are taking the weekend off. The status of the investigation into Fenrir Greyback's whereabouts is as follows -- he has been located and captured, being sent straight to Azkaban prison without trial, due to the immediate danger he poses towards Mr Malfoy. We suggest that you go and bring Mr Malfoy to the Janus Thickey Ward as soon as possible._

 _With thanks,  
Mr R Weasley,  
Head Auror_

Harry pulled on his coat as he charmed the other two letters to quickly open themselves; thus saving him time. The first one mentioned Greyback had been located, and the second one said he'd been captured and was at the Ministry, but now Harry knew he was at Azkaban, he wanted to get there and remove Malfoy as soon as possible. There may be bars separating the inmates, but he wouldn't put it past Greyback to overpower the guards.

*

Harry nodded curtly to the guard as he entered Azkaban, intending to hurry past the cells. He didn't want to speak to Parkinson, but her shrill voice stopped him just before he reached the second cell.

"You're taking him today, aren't you?" She looked sad, and Harry supposed he could understand why; he had heard they were once boyfriend and girlfriend. When he nodded softly, she let out a little sob, but seemed to contain the rest of her sadness. "Look after him, won't you?"

"Of course." Harry smiled weakly at her as he pressed on, starting to feel sorry for her. If he was recalling correctly, she still had a year and a half to go. "Come on, Malfoy. Get your stuff ready."

Malfoy looked at Harry as though he was mad. "What stuff?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. You ready, then?" When Malfoy nodded, Harry called the guard over to unlock Malfoy's cell. He expected Malfoy to almost run out of the place, but he didn't; he stopped right outside Parkinson's cell. Harry didn't say anything, he just felt awkward as they had a 'moment'.

"Hey, Pans," Malfoy said softly, and Harry realised he'd never heard Malfoy that... _kind_ before. "Pansy?"

Parkinson turned to look at them both, glaring at Harry. "What?"

"I just wanted to say goodbye, and that I'll be thinking of you." He placed his hands through the bars, and she stood up to hold them. A tear fell down her cheek, and Harry looked away awkwardly. "I'll be here for you when you get out. You're my best friend, you know that?"

Harry saw Parkinson nod out of his peripheral vision. "Thanks, Draco. I'll miss having you to moan at." She laughed bitterly and then bit back another sob.

"Hold your head high," said Malfoy. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of. There you are, that's my girl." He stroked her chin and stepped backwards, letting go of her hands. "Bye, Pans. I love you."

"I love you too," said Pansy gently, watching as both Harry and Malfoy walked down the corridor and outside.

"That was... nice of you." Harry took his hands out of his pockets, avoiding the glare he knew was on Malfoy's face.

"Shove off, Potter. Pansy's just a friend. Always has been, more or less. Now, are we Apparating, or what?"

Harry held out his arm for Malfoy to take. "Just a friend?" Malfoy nodded. "I thought you two were dating?"

"Yeah, years ago, as a pretence." At Harry's confused face, Malfoy pressed on. "I'm gay, Potter. Problem?"

"No, of course not," said Harry, quickly Disapparating them outside St Mungo's to avoid the rest of what could be a very uncomfortable conversation. When they arrived back, Harry signed Malfoy in and took him up to the Janus Thickey Ward. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to stay here for a week while we run some routine tests."

Draco shrugged. "It's better than Azkaban. But to be fair, Potter, isn't this a long term ward?"

"It is." Harry sighed audibly. "But my boss thinks I'm the only one in this hospital capable enough to deal with you." Harry didn't really want to mention that many of the Healers had point blank refused to work with Malfoy, because he didn't think lowering Malfoy's spirits would be a good idea.

Stepping towards Harry, Draco narrowed his eyes. They were only inches apart, and Harry felt quite at ease in spite of the invasion of personal space. "You think you're capable of dealing with me, do you, Potter?"

"I-I--" Harry frowned as he found himself stuttering, something he'd never done before, but he put it down to the awkwardness of the situation. "Yes. I do."

Malfoy edged backwards and said lightly, "Get on with it, then."

The sudden change of tone startled Harry, and he completely forgot what he was meant to be doing. While Malfoy just stood there staring at him, Harry flipped through his paperwork to try and remember exactly where he'd placed Malfoy. "Ahh!" Harry said at last. "You're in bed number seven."

"How fortunate," remarked Malfoy. "That's my favourite number."

"Er, okay," said Harry, leading Malfoy towards the bed and setting his patient notes on the end. Harry hadn't really expected Malfoy to be the type to have a favourite number, that seemed positively Muggle, he thought. Alas, as Malfoy smiled brightly at him, he realised he was in for a long week of uncomfortable silences and awkward conversations.

*

The next few days went a lot more smoothly than Harry had been expecting. He'd thought Malfoy would make a fuss at all the questions and tests he was put through, but he didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he appeared to rather enjoy it. Azkaban did seem to have changed Malfoy slightly, but as far as Harry was concerned, that was for the better.

"All right, Potter?" Malfoy crept up into Harry's office and shut the door as Harry shuffled through the mornings post.

Harry looked up with a frown on his face. "Yes, fine, thank you. Is there a problem?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No, I'm just bored."

"Right, well, I'm busy," said Harry as firmly as he could, but Malfoy didn't seem to get the hint and walked towards his desk. "Do you want something?"

Malfoy completely ignored his question and said, "Word on the ward is that you're gay, too."

"Oh?" Harry looked surprised; he hadn't told anyone this. "Where did you get that little snippet of information from?"

"Lockhart. He said he saw you with a man last month, waiting for you to finish your shift. Is it true, Potter? Are you gay?" Malfoy looked genuinely interested, and didn't appear to want to mock or ridicule him for it, though Harry supposed that if Malfoy were straight, he probably would have.

"Yes," Harry said sharply. "But I don't know what that has to do with you. This is really quite inappropriate, you know." He tried to go back to sifting through his post, but Malfoy placed a hand on the desk to interrupt him.

"Perhaps it is. But unless you're stupid, Potter, you can't have failed to notice the, shall we say, _tension_ , between us," said Malfoy, a wide eyed smirk on his face.

"The only tension between us is one of old school hatred," Harry said through gritted teeth, but just as he was about to tell Malfoy to bugger off again, he was kissed firmly on the lips. He was so shocked he didn't pull away, but it wasn't as if Malfoy wasn't a good kisser. Quite the opposite in fact, and when Malfoy finally stepped back, Harry was left wanting more.

Malfoy smiled and put his hands in his pockets. "I think I've entertained myself enough for now."

"Wait --" Harry began to call after him, but Malfoy was already gone. Rolling his eyes, Harry went back to his post, hoping Malfoy didn't plan to make a habit of that, regardless of how... enjoyable the kiss had been. He was Harry's patient after all.

*

The next day the same thing happened again, and Harry knew he had to put his foot down, but when he did so, it wasn't as confidently as he'd have liked, and Draco still seemed to have the upper hand.

"I think..." Harry started, and then stopped abruptly. "I think we need to wait until the end of the week. It's only two days away, Malfoy, and then we can, well, we can see where things are between us. Yeah?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "I suppose so, Potter, but don't think you're calling the shots. I'm only going along with this because I'm really quite interested in the psychoanalysis your Healers are doing, and I'd rather that not get cut short if we get caught with me fucking you up the arse."

Harry blushed and looked awkwardly down at the table. "Yeah, well, two days, Malfoy." When Malfoy left his office, Harry sighed audibly and started to fan his face with his hands; he was incredibly hot, and he had no doubt that Malfoy had done that to him. There was no denying Malfoy was an attractive man, especially now he was out of Azkaban, and he certainly wanted Malfoy to fuck him.

But, there was still all that history, and Harry wasn't quite so sure it was a good idea to mix the two. Maybe things would end up even more complicated than they already were, and Harry wasn't so sure he could handle that.

*

Malfoy had his bags packed and laid at his feet as he signed the bit of parchment Harry held out for him. When he was done, Harry took the parchment back and placed it in Malfoy's file, sitting it on top of the desk.

"I'm not your patient anymore, Potter. I think it's time, don't you?" Malfoy said cheekily, grinning at him. Harry grinned back as he looked into those wonderful grey eyes that were nearly covered by Malfoy's ever growing blond hair.

Harry nodded eagerly. "Yes, I think it is."

As Malfoy advanced forwards and pressed Harry up against the wall, Harry decided to throw caution to the wind and say, "Fuck it," because really, all he wanted right now was a good shagging from Malfoy, damn the consequences.

Damn those consequences, indeed.


End file.
